


Undertow

by SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Carlwheeler, Carlwheeler AU, Carwheeler Au, F/M, Siren, carwheeler - Freeform, mermaid, mermaid au, siren au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash/pseuds/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash
Summary: The Carlyle family's shipping company is the most prestigious known in America, and Phillip Carlyle is the next in line to inherit it. It will be his job and his alone to carry on the family line, and it is for this reason that Phillip accompanies his father on a voyage across the Atlantic aboard one of his family's ships. Everything goes as planned until the Carlyle ship comes upon another-- a ship in possession of a captured siren, the most beautiful creature Phillip has ever seen.





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [one_way_ride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_way_ride/gifts).



[Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/frowzywriter/playlist/1mJ6awlbyGSOjE0MlvSnUc)

**Song of the Chapter: "[Bury](https://open.spotify.com/track/6bVGRK9jvXt64vvvfnLr1p)" by the Unions**

* * *

The salt on the wind surrounded Phillip on all sides, just like the choppy waves that held the entire Carlyle fortune atop their crests.

The taste of the sea on the breeze on his lips intoxicated Phillip with an illusion of freedom, and he relished the little hint of happiness while he could. His father was below deck, probably penning something incredibly boring, so the youngest Carlyle was alone as he watched the sailors make their adjustments to the ship. It was stunning to him how the men climbed the rigging as though they had done it their whole life, without a thought to the fact that a single misstep would send them to a quick death on the wooden deck below. Instead of being frightened, they brazenly hopped from rope to rope as though they were not, in fact, defying every law of nature that Phillip Carlyle observed. It was funny, really, how these men defied death every day when Phillip could not manage to defy his father once. 

Phillip was so lost in thought as he watched the men that it took him a moment to realize that something had changed. It was the lack of the breeze, which had been so intent upon playing with his hair a moment ago; that was the first indicator that something was afoot. Then, the deafening silence seemed to press in on Phillip from all sides. The only sounds he could hear were those made by the sailors; though his ears strained to hear the wind or the sound of the waves below, they could hear nothing. The reason for this, he realized, was that this part of the waters was completely glassy. 

At first, Phillip thought that he was dreaming. No, he realized as he glanced in the direction from which they had come. There was a clear, definite line where the jagged peaks of the waves on one side met the smooth mirror of these waters. It was as though one inch of the water was choppy and the next was perfectly smooth, and neither influenced the other. As far as Phillip could see, there was not so much as a ripple across the surface of the ocean.

The sailors all paused in their work, and they appeared to be inserting something into their ears. Phillip watched as they inserted something that looked like wax into each ear, and his brow furrowed. "Wait," he called to one of the younger seamen, a fresh-faced boy who could not have been more than sixteen years of age. The redheaded man glanced over at Phillip, and his eyes widened. The crew was aware that the Carlyles owned these ships and everything on them and that they were to be treated with respect. Phillip did not want special treatment now, however, he wanted answers. "What are you doing?" 

The boy paused, the hand that held his second piece of wax falling from his head. "We're blockin' our ears out, sir," the boy said slowly, making a clear attempt to show deference with a nod. "So we can't hear 'em." 

"Them?" Phillip echoed, furrowing his brow. He glanced out over the water, but he could see no other ship in sight. 

"Sirens, sir," the boy explained, and a glimmer of fear entered his eyes as he spoke. "These waters're infested with 'em. Tha's why they're so smooth, sir. They use their powers over the water ta keep 'em calm, so their song'll carry farther." 

Phillip had read of sirens before... The creatures were something that he was expected to know about, as the heir to a shipping company. Their territories were charted on the wall of his father's study so that whenever possible, his ships could take a route that led them around the waters. Otherwise, there was always a danger posed to the ships by the monsters. Sirens attracted sea serpents, and ships often became caught in the crossfire-- or worse, the sirens' enchanting songs allowed them to manipulate the sailors into jumping overboard to drown themselves. Their kisses were supposed to be addictive, their visages otherworldly... No man stood a chance against them. 

"But why are we going through siren territory, if we know that they are here?" Phillip pressed the young boy. The redhead seemed to be proud that he possessed answers Phillip did not, and it was with pride that he next spoke. 

"Because, sir," the boy announced, "they're almost gone." 

Phillip blinked several times, and by then he had completely turned away from the water. "I do not understand," he said slowly. Phillip rolled up the sleeves to his crisp white shirt as he took a step closer to the boy whose shabby uniform contrasted him in every way. 

"Haven' you heard of Bennett's new harpoons?" the boy asked in disbelief. When Phillip did not respond, a little grin crossed his face. "Bennett, a famous whaler, has invented a new sort of harpoon. Bigger, you know, and nets that are strong, lightweight, and nearly invisible. If we trap any sort of whale or dolphin in a regular fishing net that is far enough below the ship, sirens come to free the animals. Then, we can use the nets to capture and harpoons to kill. It's quick, you know. Their knives can't cut through the nets, and if you harpoon 'em fast enough, they can't escape. Sure, they're worth a fortune alive, but they ain't a bad profit dead either. You can still sell the scales that way. If they're alive in the nets for too long, some of 'em find ways to get out through the netting or use their voices to make sure they're freed. It ain't worth the risk to keep 'em alive."

It sounded barbaric... Phillip knew that the creatures were dangerous, but they did not merit a death like that. His father would have told him that they were a danger if left alive, and Phillip tried to think of it that way. "I am having trouble seeing what that has to do with anything." 

"Most of 'em in these waters have been killed," explained the sailor. "Those that don't fall for the traps led us right back to the places where they live in groups, and it's easy enough after to dump explosives around their homes. Stuns the ones it doesn't kill, and those are easy to pick up with nets. We're safe because there're almost none left. After a few more dumps, these waters'll be safe again." 

Something in Phillip's heart wrenched. He had read many volumes on sirens, and they all said the same things-- these creatures were incapable of intelligence or emotion, and they weren't anything like humans. But this sort of death seemed inhumane and dishonorable. "Does my father do it?" 

"Of course," the redhead replied, looking surprised. "This company donates more to Bennett and his boys than any other." 

Phillip opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment there was a cry from the crow's nest. Both Phillip and the boy beside him looked up, and he could clearly hear the call of "approaching ship!" Phillip turned to gaze out over the deck as the young sailor scurried away, and sure enough, he could see the shape of a large ship in the distance, coming their way. The sailors were a united body, moving in unison to follow the orders Phillip could hear the first mate giving. Over the glassy water, Phillip had a better view than normal of the approaching ship, and when his eyes found the flag a breath of relief left him. For a moment, he had been worried about pirates, but that was not the case here. Footsteps could be heard over the creaking wood of the deck as both his father and the captain came up from below. 

"Father," Phillip greeted the man, who was clothed in fine colors and materials and whose buttons barely closed over a protruding stomach. "The flag is-" 

"-One of ours, yes," Arthur Carlyle interrupted, and his gaze was far away as he gazed out over the water at the approaching ship. The captain's thick brow was furrowed as he followed Arthur's gaze. "If I'm not mistaken, that is the  _Albatross._ " 

The captain turned an incredulous gaze to Arthur, one that was not much different than Phillip's. "But sir," the man spoke up in a deep, rumbling voice. "The  _Albatross_ was lost months ago. You know-" 

"I know my ships," Arthur Carlyle replied firmly, turning a darkened gaze upon the man. "And that is the  _Albatross,_ captained by Jonathan Pierce, my best captain. You will not question me again, Captain Holly."

"Yes, sir," the captain murmured, glancing down at his boots. 

"I want to moor with the _Albatross_." 

This caused an audible sound of surprise to be heard from Phillip. "What?" stammered Holly, his bushy brows climbing his forehead. "Sir, that's insane-" 

"As is the fact that you are still under my employ," Arthur replied harshly. His gaze was icy, and Phillip could tell that his father would not be moved despite Holly's pleas. 

"Sir, they could have been hijacked. There could be pirates aboard, there could have been a mutiny! There are any number of reasons why we should not moor." 

"And yet moor we will," Arthur commanded smoothly, turning to go down below. "If you value your salary, Holly, you will do as I say. Communicate intent to moor." With that, Arthur Carlyle turned and marched down the stairs, and Captain Holly was left in his wake gaping like a bluegill. 

After a moment standing and staring, Holly turned and quickly moved to spread the orders among the men. Phillip became glued to the spot he had occupied before, unable to move despite the fact that it would take several hours to connect the vessels. As the ship came closer, Phillip was able to make out the figurehead. There was a woman carved into the front of the ship with a bird on her shoulder, perching with a nobility that could not be mistaken. The younger Carlyle did not enjoy admitting that his father was right, but he was not going to withhold credit where it was due. His father, though many might say he made his fortune by sitting on his behind, knew everything about the business, inside and out. 

As the ship came closer, Phillip watched as they communicated through waving of colored flags. The mooring process took several hours, during all of which Phillip observed. He did not see himself as above all of this the way his father did; rather, it intrigued him and it was an opportunity that Phillip had never had before. The ship drew closer and closer, enough so that he could see the people crawling about like ants over its deck. The talk of the sailors became louder and more energetic, and Phillip knew they were excited. It had been over two months that they had been at sea, and during those two months, Phillip had learned more about the business than he had in years of tutoring. For these men, however, it was the same thing that they had been doing for years. None of them had seen land, a warm meal, or a woman for months. The thought of new company and perhaps celebration lightened their steps, and they moved swiftly. Before he knew it, the other vessel was pulling in close to the ship, and Phillip watched as the two ships slowly drew together. 

There was a 'thud' as a wooden board as stretched between the two boats, and over it, a man crossed. Phillip watched as he approached with a watchful eye, and he took in every detail of the man's appearance. He was tall, with a broad chest and a slightly protruding potbelly. His clothing was wrinkled and stained, though it was clearly made quite finely and only seemed poorly because of slovenliness. A greasy mass of hair and a beard covered a large portion of his face, but when he extended a toothy grin Phillip saw that his smile was twisted and more like a sneer than anything else. Behind the man, Phillip was greeted with the image of sailors that were thin and appeared weakened, which starkly contrasted the appearance of the man approaching. 

"Well, well, well," drawled the man, and his accent was gruff as he stepped down onto the deck of the  _Night Stallion._ "If it isn't another Carlyle! I'd heard about Arthur's boy, but that was when you was a young'n. I'd reckon you're almost a man." 

"Phillip Carlyle, sir," Phillip greeted the man. Despite his impulses, Phillip extended a hand to the man. The smell of stale sweat and spoiled milk greeted Phillip as the man's rough hands gripped his own hard enough to cut off circulation. "And I assume that you are Captain Pierce." 

The man's watery brown eyes lit up with a gleam that unsettled Phillip slightly. "Tha's the one," he affirmed, shaking Phillip's hand firmly before letting it down. "Cap'n of the  _Albatross._ Although, when Arthur sees what I've brought 'im, he might move me to a better ship." 

Phillip felt his interest rise, and as he lowered his throbbing hand to his side, he queried, "And what is that?" 

"Patience, Phillip," came his father's voice from behind Phillip. "You are not the owner of this company yet, son, though you will be one day." Arthur Carlyle strode to Phillip's side, offering him a wooden smile before turning to face Pierce. "Captain Pierce. You are a welcome sight, your ship has not been spotted for months. We assumed you had been wrecked." 

"The  _Albatross_ won't be wrecked so long as I'm it's captain, sir," Pierce said easily, using a much more familiar tone than Phillip had ever heard anyone use with his father. To his surprise, Arthur did not seem the least bit bothered... That certainly attested to Pierce's ability. "We managed to stretch out the rations. But we've picked up someth'n, someth'n valuable." 

"And what exactly do you have to show for your time?" Arthur pressed. When Phillip glanced at his father, he saw a chill in his eyes that made him shiver. Whatever this was, his father would make sure that he worked every last cent out of it... And he could tell that his father was excited. 

The objects of Arthur Carlyle's excitement almost never met happy ends. 

Captain Pierce glanced over his shoulder, and a little sneer crossed his lips. "Bring 'er up, boys." 

It was only then that a few of the sailors vanished below decks, leaving them all in the silence that was only broken by the sound of creaking wood. The space was pregnant with expectation, and Phillip knew that now was not a time to speak. Whatever would pass would pass, and there would be no rushing it. Phillip could already tell that Captain Pierce was one with a flair for the dramatic. Phillip was about to open his mouth to speak when there was the sound of a struggle, and Phillip looked up. 

Two of the sailors from the  _Albatross_ had come up from below, and each held the arm of a woman. The girl was a small figure, willowy, and clearly injured. One of her legs had a deep gash down it which seemed only a little ways from opening, and it looked as though the slightest movement would add more to the dried blood that was crusted against one of her bare legs. The woman was barely modest, clothed in a massive, stained shirt that clearly was made for a large man. This fell down to a few inches above her knees and was filthy, the same way she was. Any inch of the girl that was not streaked with blood was covered in dirt, including her face. Her mouth was gagged with a dirty cloth, but Phillip could still hear the sound of hoarse cries through the cloth. The woman's eyes were wide with panic, but there were no tears in them. Still, Phillip could see that they were red and puffy. It seemed as though she refused to cry in front of her captors. The brown depths of her irises were as deep as the ocean, and they blazed with a rage that Phillip had never seen in his life. Her hair was loose in curls around her head, which a sudden wind seemed to tug at with its fingers as though it hoped to pull her free of her captors. She looked a mess. 

And somehow, she was the most beautiful woman Phillip had ever seen, with a fire blazing in her eyes that Phillip would have gladly allowed to consume him. 

Pierce cast a look at the two of them of the utmost satisfaction, and there was a sadistic glint in his eyes as he said, "I have captured you a siren." 


End file.
